


Poison And Wine

by summerhurleys



Series: Shatters Of The New Dawn [1]
Category: One Direction
Genre: 1920s America AU, Bartender!Louis, Bartender!Zayn, Cop!Niall, F/M, Flapper!Harry, Harry enjoys dressing up and acting like a girl, M/M, Speakeasies are invovled, bartender!liam, like his name is Hazel Stilers ok, there will be sex later in this, uhhhh totally aU!, um 1930s America AU soon!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhurleys/pseuds/summerhurleys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of the things Harry did were right in the world he lived in, but then again, Harry didn’t feel right. Even when he was a young lad, he felt that the girls he attended primary school with were prettier than him, he wanted to wear what they did.<br/>The year was 1928. Harry Styles was promptly eighteen and a half years old by this point. During the daytime, he was a worker at the local newspaper office, the editor’s assistant. At dusk, he was Hazel Stilers. The gal who made all the lads swoon at the very sight of her, the gal who’s drank every drink in the bar, the gal who can dance graceful like the swans at the lake in the next town.<br/>_<br/>This is a fic which will expand into the Stock Market crash of 1929, and onwards to the Great Depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison And Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is an entirely experimental fic whos plotbunny has been bugging me for about three weeks now. I'm going to try to make this as historically accurate as I can, but seeing as I'm young, I only know so much about this era and will be doing research so things will go smoother. I'd love you to death if you could point out any inaccuracies, I'll fix them best I can!  
> Also, this will eventually have boyxboy sexy times, thus is why I upped the rating to M. The main ship here is Larry Stylinson (LouisxHarry). I've also made dim plans to do another series focusing on Zayn, Niall, and Liam in this timeline, but we'll see about that.  
> Enjoy reading! Kudo, bookmark, and comment if you can! :)

' Here we are once more, the end of the day. At least now I can finally have some fun, being myself, with the other girls.' Harry thought to himself as he escaped to his bedroom, where he knew his mother and father wouldn’t dare come in. Not that they were even home.

Harry’s mother was at work, stuck at the town’s textile mill making clothes for the men working at the factory many miles off in the mountain areas. She wouldn’t be home until very late in the evening, by then she’d be too exhausted to even care about what her son was up to. If only she knew. Harry’s father was off on a business trip in Chicago, and would not be back for quite a while, so of course he wouldn’t know either.

The great thing was, Harry enjoyed dressing up as a young woman. The dresses made him free, the other women understood his troubles even though almost none of them knew of what gender he was. The makeup formed well on his face, and though his feet were steadily growing, he still managed to get heels made for him. Most of all, he always caught the attention of the men at the local speakeasy he hung out at every night.

None of the things Harry did were right in the world he lived in, but then again, Harry didn’t feel right. Even when he was a young lad, he felt that the girls he attended primary school with were prettier than him, he wanted to wear what they did.

The year was 1928. Harry Styles was promptly eighteen and a half years old by this point. During the daytime, he was a worker at the local newspaper office, the editor’s assistant. At dusk, he was Hazel Stilers. The gal who made all the lads swoon at the very sight of her, the gal who’s drank every drink in the bar, the gal who can dance graceful like the swans at the lake in the next town.

Anyhow, Harry was in his room, pulling up a loose plank in the wood floor in his bedroom. This was where he managed to keep his ever-growing wardrobe of dresses and various evening wear. He grinned as he opened up the metal chest, revealing some of his best dresses. After thinking about the show he would have to do that night, he plucked out a long emerald green dress out. It had golden tassels hanging off of the curved neckline, and showed off much of his upper chest and back. It seemed to shimmer in the right light, which was just what he needed for the performance that night.

Harry delicately placed the gown on the bed next to him, then returning to the compartment. There was an array of hats, necklaces, earrings, you name it, and he had one of it. 'Well, tonight’s dress is green, so I suppose this will have to match my eyes. Think about what Willa told you, Hazel.' He thought gently to himself, crouching down to grab a simple pearl necklace he had stolen from his mother. This was followed by a lighter green headband, which had a white rose attached to the top.

Soon enough, there were his green two-inch heels, emerald dangled earrings, and light tan hose with garters on the bed. Harry chuckled at his work, his pitch higher than his usual. He had to train himself to up his pitch so the girls and the bartenders wouldn’t see through his ruse.

Harry began to quickly undress as he stole a glance at the grandfather clock he had in his room, it told him he only had an hour to get to the bar before the first show of the night was to begin. His undershirt was the first thing to go, for he had shed his other top wear in the rest-room of the house. This was followed by his trousers, underwear afterward. He was now free. He thought as he snatched a pair of women’s bloomers from the chest on the floor, slipping them on and adjusting to their free and comfortable feel compared to the tightness of his underwear before.

He then pulled on the dress, letting it drop onto his lithe form, signs of his masculinity beginning to slowly fade. The necklace followed, then the earrings. Now all he needed was to pull on his garters, put on his headband, and apply the necessary makeup for the night.

Not quite half an hour later, Harry or Hazel, whichever was appropriate by this point, was ready for the night. She found herself to be quite stunning, the transformation so smooth on her with practice.

She laughed as she packed away the chest into the floor, covering it back up with the floorboard. Hazel then found her tiny purse under her pillow on her bed, and put her makeup and some alcohol money into it.

After all of that was settled with, she rushed out of the house and headed away into the darkness of the city streets, where no one could see her, much less recognize her or her other identity…… 

~*~

“Lou! Unlock the door! It won’t be but a half-hour before the costumers start to arrive!”

Louis Tomlinson sighed lightly to himself as he walked across the saloon-like bar to the solid black door that many called ‘The Devil’s Door’, unlocking it.

He had a long day at work, evading the ‘prohibitionists’ who were after him that day as he brought in the latest shipment of vodka from the Canadian smugglers who had gotten it from the west. Louis could barely count on both hands how many times in the past month how close he had come to getting caught by the local police as he got alcohol from the shipment docks and over to “Abigail’s Pleasure” (that was what the speakeasy was called, it was codenamed ‘Abby’ in the outside.) He knew that he at least had one person on the force that would break him out of jail though, in regular costumer Niall Horan, who was an officer in training, but came over to the speakeasy not to bust it, but to drink.

Now here he was, a lowly bartender in the secret basement speakeasy in the root of a popular hotel in the deep city. Just flaunting himself off to the pretty girls who came in during the evenings as they participated in their rebel activities, serving drinks for them. Illegal drinks. Ever since that dammed law had passed less than ten years ago, this was the life he lived.

Of course, Louis did choose this life for himself. Sort’ve.

To be completely honest with all things, Louis only entered the illegal smuggling and bar-owning business when he met his ex-fiancée, Eleanor Calder. She was a regular drinker, and was in a ways addicted to the alcohol. This was shortly before the dreaded eighteenth amendment was passed and everything went spinning out of control. Louis found out about smuggling from his ‘innocent’ best friend, Liam Payne, who was a supposed gang leader. (Even he doesn’t know to this day.) He quickly joined the secret gathering and moving of the shipments, thus joining ‘The Abby’ and its small staff group.

Not a year later, he was abandoned at the alter on their wedding day, thus being alone. That’s how he had been for the past seven years. Alone and working in the darkness of the world. All he saw was the women as they tried to lead a revolution of their own rights, the men who drank away their sorrows. All he heard was the swang of the record player as it played the popular music of the month in the early evening, the horns and guitars of midnight, the ‘clinks’ of final beers, and the slurs of men drunk beyond sick.

Louis was twenty years old. If not for the wrong turns in life, he would have been an honest man in an honest business. But maybe that wasn’t the way a man with such a wild hairstyle and such a wild personality was supposed to go. Now he was just a young man, a slim chance of having life, of having a mate to settle down with for the rest of his days.

He hummed a tune of nothing to himself as he polished off the counters, watching as Liam shuffled through the breadbasket of records to put in the phonograph, soon settling on a recently popular tune by a man named Louie Armstrong. 'How ironic.' He thought to himself. 'I want to be a singer, the one everyone hears on the player and on the stage here.'

“How about that, Lou?” Liam interrupted into Louis’ thoughts, promptly startling him,

“Huh?” Louis asked, caught totally unawares.

“Did you hear about the bust of the Foxhound?” Liam repeated himself, now leaning against the back of a barstool, the brass buttons on his brown striped vest glimmering in the soft glow of the bar.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, the Foxhound? Busted? When was this?”

The Foxhound speakeasy was the oldest one in the entire city, basically underground even before the amendment was passed. It was also the most famous of the townsfolk. It had kept so long without a bust, it seemed almost impenetrable.

“Yes. It was apparently taken down last night, the owners were totally fooled, so I found out. Big news, I suppose you haven’t checked The Journal yet today. You know what that mean for us, right?”

“More customers, more danger on the outside. Just like when the Toronto was busted a couple years back, right?” Louis asked, voice shaking lightly. He was always mortified when busts occurred. He didn’t want to be next.

“That’s right. Both good and bad for us lot. I suspect you’ll be getting a small payraise soon, Louis. Keep up good work, might want to size up orders if you can manage it.”

“We’ll see, Liam. It’s been getting tricky to transport, even with the extra help you send over. I almost got identified this afternoon.”

Right about then, there was a knock on the door. 'First costumer.' Louis thought as he sped away from the bar and over to the door. He found the pull to the viewer, and saw a stunning pair of emerald eyes. “Who’s this?” He asked softly, knowing it could very well be police.

“I would figure you’d recognize me by now! It’s Hazel, you fool!”


End file.
